Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Guyana and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Q and Not U to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Pussy Galore,
Surgeon,
Hashim,
Crime,
Amon Düül II,
Ossler,
Accadde A,
FM Einheit,
Symarip,
Scrapy,
The Red Krayola,
The Knickerbockers,
The Monks,
Desert Stars,
Y Pants,
The Vogues,
The Busters,
Absolute Body Control,
Eli Mardock,
The Smoke,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Icehouse,
Minnie Riperton,
Crispy Ambulance,
Radio Birdman,
Ken Boothe,
Donny Hathaway,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Wells,
Marcia Griffiths,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dennis Brown,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Make Up,
Ultra Naté,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lyres,
Sister Nancy,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantytec,
The Gories,
Rapeman,
Depeche Mode,
Ronan,
Rosa Yemen,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Excepter,
Freddie Wadling,
Sam Rivers,
Grauzone,
Sarah Menescal,
Oneida,
The Happenings,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scratch Acid,
Qualms,
Thee Headcoats,
the Soft Cell,
UT,
Nick Fraelich,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.